Minecraft freak hobbyist

“Jeez,” Gem sighs, adjusting where she’s flopped on her couch as Etho starts to crowd over her. “More?”

His hands are insistent when they ruck up her shirt just enough to touch the skin of her waist, his mouth finding her throat.

He hums, not an answer, and Gem automatically spreads her legs to let him push closer.

“I only just cleaned up,” she complains, and Etho drags his teeth across her skin. “Again.”

“So stop cleaning up,” he murmurs, making Gem snort.

“How many more times are you gonna do this?”

She's been trying not to think about the fact that Etho will be heading home soon, back to his own corner of Canada. She kind of hopes he plans to fuck her as many times as physically possible before that happens.

One of Etho’s hands shoves at her skirt and it doesn't take him long to find out she never bothered to put on panties after her shower.

He leans back enough to meet her gaze, lifting one brow, and Gem bites her lip around a smile, wordlessly reaching down to pull her skirt out of the way, showing off where she's already starting to get wet at just the thought of him.

Etho exhales roughly, scrambling for his belt, seeming frantic to get it unbuckled.

“God,” she mutters. “It's like you think I'm running out of time.”

Etho's hands falter as he stares down at her with clear confusion in his expression.

“I'm only thirty,” she says. “My eggs aren't gonna shrivel up tomorrow.”

Gem's delighted by the noise of shock Etho lets out, and he freezes, one hand on the inside of her thigh.

“What?” he asks, voice weak and slightly higher pitched.

“So you're not trying to knock me up?” she asks. “Could've fooled me.”

“That's not — you — ”

His frown deepens and she knows he's trying to put two and two together, trying to reconcile what she's saying and how it could possibly be true when she crawled over him im bed that morning to grab and take her birth control pill.

She sees the exact moment it hits and he swallows, still watching her.

“Is that what you want?” he asks quietly, like he's scared to say it any louder. “For your birthday.”

Gem shrugs as casually as she can, even as she aches for some kind of touch between her legs.

“You can try,” she tells him, and Etho's grip on her leg tightens. “I’ll leave the mess there as long as you like.”

Etho’s grip tightens again — enough that she knows she’ll bruise — and she lets out a soft laugh.

“What do you think?” she asks.

Which is how Gem finds herself on the floor beside the couch, skirt rucked up out of the way as Etho shoves into her from behind.

He’s rougher than she expects, hands clutching at her waist as he drives into her, and Gem stretches out her arms to rest her cheek against the inside of her elbow.

She aches every time he pushes in as deep as he can get, just a little too big for her to take comfortably, and she can’t stop the moans that keep escaping from her — little ah ah ahs with every thrust.

“How many loads do you think it’ll take to work?” she gets out, voice muffled by her own arm, and Etho doesn’t slow down. “Thirty?”

She likes the thought of him trying that many times, of him wringing himself dry just to keep her filled.

“Or do you think it already has?”

That makes Etho worse.

He lets out a weak noise, hands scrabbling at Gem’s sides, like he’s trying to pull her further onto his cock, and Gem arches her back just a little more to encourage him deeper.

He’s desperate and Gem smiles even as she feels herself getting closer to the edge.

“More,” she begs, and she knows both of their knees are going to be ruined by the rug they’re on.

She reaches out, bracing herself against the coffee table as he picks up speed, their bodies loud with how wet Gem is, and she knows she’s only going to get wetter.

“Come inside me,” she begs. “Push it deep.”

One of Etho’s hands slides around to her stomach, pressing tightly as though imagining what they could do together, what it would be like for Gem to actually be pregnant.

“This time,” Etho exhales. “This time.”

It sounds like a plea to the universe, and the trembling in his voice has her clenching and shaking beneath him as she comes, not even needing to touch herself. It’s enough just to think about Etho wanting it, of him trying his hardest to knock her up.

He groans, like the feeling of her tightening around him is too much, and he barely lasts a handful more thrusts before he gives Gem what she wants, coming and thrusting just enough to nudge it up against the tender spot inside her.

“God,” Gem sighs, basking in the weight of him over her, how he reaches for her face, turning her just enough to be able to find her mouth for a kiss.

“Don’t move,” he tells her when they finally break for air, and his hands are tight on her waist when he pulls out. “Stay right there.”

Gem doesn’t plan on moving at all. She keeps her hips up even as she sags further against the arm below her head.

His hand smooths up the back of her thigh, and Gem gets the impression that he’s staring at the mess he’s made of her.

“We should’ve tried that sooner,” she sighs, and Etho makes a quiet noise.

Well. She bets she knows what Pearl's up to, now. From plenty–<em>plenty</em>–of prior experience, False knows to pack her ender chest accordingly. Constantly, Ren is forgetting his sex shulker box–or 'forgetting', so Cleo claims–and False gets called to run it back to him.

She can do something for herself tonight, though, for sure.

But, goodness, wouldn't it be nice if the people she had sex with just called it normal things? Only Cleo can just say 'Hey, down to fuck?' Earlier, with Joe and Xisuma and Zedaph, the lattermost kept calling it 'having a doohickey,' which, of course, the only reason why False didn't just leave outright was because Joe's mouth could do far more than just run and run, but, still!

Pearl is one of the worst offenders of the 'calling it something else' nonsense, though. Literally anything can be sexual with that girl. (She said 'mind if I chomp some lettuce' before trying to go down on False, for the record. False has not let her near her, ahem. Head of lettuce. Since.)

But Pearl is also quite pretty, and her eyes go all soft and doe-y when False looks down at her, and–False doesn't consider her much of a dom, not really, but it's fun to play the part with her.

Rocketing off to her base, landing. It's being torn apart, moved–just ridiculous, in False's opinion, but Pearl wants it her way, and it is her area to do what she wants. Undo what she wants.

"Pearl?" False asks.

"Oh, I'm in here–was just doing a teeny bit of decoration," she calls, and then pops her head out from a room in the mountain. "Didn't want us to, uh, you know, pop each other's chorus fruits while I had a granite-diorite texture in the walls."

"Of course not," False replies. Almost flinches at how dry it comes out, but at least everybody's used to it around her, now.

The room is small, gorgeously decorated, and Pearl's taking her by the hand. "It's been a while," Pearl says, her voice akin to warm clay being rolled back and forth between fingers, in the palm. "Hi."

"Hi," False replies.

Gets up on her tip-toes to meet Pearl's kiss, guide them into the bed.

Not necessarily the most efficient, especially considering their height difference, but False eventually settles them to where False is sitting up and Pearl's leaning back against her, stripping her clothes off her. Firefighter uniform that covers up entirely too much, all that.

False cups her boobs, and they're a little on the smaller side but so are her hands; she kneads them, takes Pearl's nipples between her fingers, the joints, pulls. "Mm!"

This is always the hardest part of domming. What to say, what to say–make it good, make it sexy– "Yeah?"

Kind of a fumble, but Pearl seems attracted to those. "Yeah, I–I always like it when you play with my chest."

Pearl's allergy to saying anything 'dirty' extends quite far. Quite the difference to what she'll do. "I have some clamps on hand; do you wanna play a game with that?" False asks.

Her eyes light up when she shifts around, kisses whatever bits of False's neck and shoulders she can reach. Nods, says, "Yes, please."

False can't help but smile at the politeness, barely not laugh. "Alright," and she pulls out a bundle. "This is some clamps plus some weights, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, that sounds good."

"What we can do is, we get the clamps on you, and then–" False knows her pretty well by now; Gem is good at controlling her orgasms–but Pearl is not, she's quite easy, really– "Each time I make you cum, we'll put another weight on your nipples, okay?"

A soft whimper out of Pearl's throat, so sweet sounding. "Yes, yes, please–"

Pearl always shaves her pussy, so it's just stubble down there, under False's hand. Her middle finger finds Pearl's clit right away, starts rolling it, and Pearl drops the clamp she was holding. "Need help?" False asks.

That competitive spark in Pearl. "No, I-I got it," she whimpers, places it too deep into the areola.

"That's wrong, though." False removes her hand, and Pearl tries to follow it with her hips– "Seriously? I only touched you for a second–" and the muscles in Pearl's abdomen, thighs, almost spasm with the weight of False's offhand words. "We need it right here," she says, clamps it right on Pearl's left teat.

"But that hurts!" Pearl whines, turns her head, tosses her hair.

Some ends up in False's mouth, and she yanks it down. Another whimper from Pearl at it, of course. She's probably the easiest member on the whitelist, honestly. "Let me just take care of your other one," False sighs, thumps Pearl's right nipple a few times to get it hard, slips the clamp on. Doesn't quite know how to ask about how much it hurts without seeming desperate for domming validation, so she goes, "Ow, ow, ow?"

Pearl's hips buck at that–oh! It probably came off as False making fun of Pearl. Good thing she likes that, then, going, "Yes, it hurts, nngh–"

"Can you tug them?" False is interested.

"I can. Doesn't mean I will, though."

False's hand back down at her pussy, right overtop her clit. "Well–I don't need to do anything with this, do I," False hums, spreads her labia.

"I could flick my own trapdoor!" Pearl whines.

Sometimes, it's a little difficult to get Pearl into the right headspace for False. But there's always ways. "Alright," and then she takes another clamp out of her inventory.

Pulls back Pearl's hood, exposes her clit.

Clamps it right on.

"OW! Ow, ow, ow–that hurts, that hurts, oh, my goodness, ow, ow, ow–" Pearl yelps, bucks her hips up and down a few more times.

"Calm down," False says, because she wants to talk more. There's a little space between the clamp and Pearl's clit that she sticks her finger through, pulls the clamp down. "Okay. Are you able to handle that?"

"Mm-hm…"

"Get your hands up on your boobs–yeah, yeah. Each time I tug on this piercing, you pull on yours, okay?" False says.

"That's gonna hurt–"

"And?"

Pearl whimpers again. It's a great sound.

One that False solicits, tugs on the clit clamp with her thumb, fucks two fingers into her pussy. "Wow, your cunt is so wet," False notes.

Pearl gasps, works her hips a few times. She's mentioned in the past how much she hates that word, which–well. Tends to make her react stronger in bed when it's used. Gem showed her that one night, Pearl between them. In most all other circumstances, False doesn't tend to use it much, either, but, with how Pearl gets about it– "Don't call it that!"

"What. Your cunt?" False asks, keeps her tone simple, the tug on Pearl's clit uncomplicated.

A second later, Pearl tugs on her nipple clamps, the whine out of her mouth long. She'll be cumming soon. "Yes, d-don't, don't–"

"You don't want to cum from your cunt?" False asks, crooks her fingers into her pussy, deep, angling for her g-spot.

"I–" She's so flustered, blush down to her boobs. "Right there–mm, mm, mm–"

"Oh, dear, I'm not sure if you want to cum from there, though," False hums, pulls her fingers out with a thick <em>schlock</em> sound.

"I do! I do–I do, I do, I do," Pearl pants, tries to follow False's fingers. Cleo always calls it Pearl's lost puppy move, when she tries to follow somebody's nice touch.

False tugs on her clit again, keeps going, rhythmically. After a few repetitions, Pearl follows, face screwed into a wince as she keeps pulling on her own boobs. "You aren't doing a good job of that," False says.

Pearl does love critique, loves the improvement process, refining herself. Something that False has always noted about her. "Ah?"

She places her hands on top of Pearl's, uses them to pull her tits up into air, and then tugs on them like that. "See?"

"This hurts!" Pearl wails.

When she gets noisy like that, it only means one thing. "You say that like you're not on the edge right now from it," False points out, dry.

Her fingers are back inside Pearl's pussy before the contractions from the way False keeps talking to her ebb away fully.

Because she clenches about it, every little thing–'easy' is precisely the word for her–and it's only a few more drillings into her g-spot when Pearl cries out, arches her back, humps False's hand and cries a few strangled cries from crushing her own clit and it's all self-inflicted, self-perpetuated.

During Pearl's comedown, False taps her pussy entrance, gently. Doesn't take off the clamps, anything like that.

Contrary to that sentiment, actually– "Go ahead and put the weights on, and I'll give you another orgasm, okay?" False says.

Pearl gasps.

Collects herself, nods.

Her cute face winces at the application of each weight, shudders when she gasps and her tits bob up and down a little too harsh.

And, of course, False makes her start tugging on them in no time.